Journey
by froyozensight
Summary: He's running from something bad. Has been for a while. They meet when he "breaks" into her cabin to escape a blizzard. She promptly hits him with a frying pan. Maybe though, she can help him stop hating himself, or at least start loving her...PruHun
1. Chapter 1

Number: 04  
Prompt: #23 - Journey  
Summary: He's running from something bad. Has been for a while. They happen to meet when he "breaks" into her cabin to escape a blizzard. Maybe she can help him finally heal...  
Pairings: PruHun, though it can be taken as friendship  
Rating: T for Prussia

Disclaimer: I only own Hetalia season one dub and the first English novel. Other than that, nothing. Yes, it makes me cry myself to sleep at night too.

WARNING: Mention of character death.

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The wind was biting, sinking right through the many layers of his clothes to his skin, which was beginning to feel numb. Snow was melting where it landed on his body, causing his clothes to become damp, only furthering the numbing process. It fell steadily, making it as if he never existed by covering up any tracks he left as he trudged onwards to…somewhere.

He had stopped caring about a destination a long time ago.

And he wasn't about to start caring now.

Red eyes turned up to the moon, what little he could see of it anyway. The blizzard really was obstructing his view, but he looked at it for a while before facing straight ahead again. Not that it did him much good.

All he could see was snow, snow, and more snow.

Did he mention that he could see the fucking snow?

He let out a huff of annoyance, patting his arms to futilely get the blood pumping a little more as he finally spotted something ahead that may or may not provide shelter from the rest of the blasted storm.

"'Bout fucking time," he grumbled under his breath as he neared the only structure he'd seen for days.

As he drew closer, he saw that if it had not been for the dim light shining inside, he probably would've stomped right past it.

Log cabins have the tendency to blend into forests at night. Just a helpful thing he noticed when during one storm he found himself camping outside of an empty cabin during a blizzard. He made sure from then on to check more carefully when he made camp against unreasonably close trees.

He still blamed the snow for practically freezing his eyes shut.

Pushing his memory of his folly to the back of his mind, he marched right up to the door, and with his achy fingers, wrenched it open without knocking.

Which turned out to be a mistake.

He had scarcely shut the door behind himself when something hard and solid hit him on the head and he saw blackness as he fell to the floor.

-x-

Though he was sure that only a few minutes had passed, it felt like he'd been out for days when he finally roused to consciousness. Rubbing his head, he sat up, mildly surprised to find himself stripped of his outer clothes and wrapped in a blanket by a roaring fire.

"I don't know where you come from, but I'm pretty sure you're supposed to knock before entering someone's house." The voice was feminine and just the slightest bit miffed. Looking around for the source, he found in with the only other person in the whole cabin. She sat at the small table sipping a cup of something, staring at him as if he was an idiot.

Rolling his red eyes, he merely returned the look.

"You obviously walked fifteen miles through a blizzard before…"

"Fifteen miles?" She gaped at him, and it made the hollow feeling inside him fade a little. It was always nice to know that people still occasionally recognized how awesome he was.

"Yeah, but I could've kept going. I just didn't feel like it." He winced as he accidentally hit the bump forming on his head as he shook the ice from his white hair. "Shit! What'd you hit me with you crazy broad?"

She harrumphed, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder as she narrowed her green eyes at him. "It was only my frying pan."

"A frying pan? What did you think I was, a goddamn burglar coming in through the fucking front door?" A low hiss came out as he cupped his head, wanting the pain to go away. For a woman she had a damn good arm, and aim for that matter, but he wasn't really in the mood to compliment her.

"You took me by surprise, and it was the first thing I could think of doing." She looked away from him for the first time, and he was amused to see that she seemed to be embarrassed. "I'm not exactly used to getting visitors, so I tend to always expect the worst…"

Silence fell between them, and he wasn't really sure what he could do to assuage the awkwardness. Or if he even wanted to at that. This woman had just bashed him over the head with a fucking _frying pan_, so sue him if he was feeling the tiniest bit of a grudge.

"…I'm Elizaveta, by the way…"

"Gilbert…"

She still wasn't looking at him, and he wasn't about to make her. It wasn't like staring into her eyes made him forget about why he was traveling or anything. Nope, nothing so sappy and romantic could ever be the reason for why he desperately wanted her to look at him again. He was mad at this chick for hitting him and simply wanted her to see his glare. That was all, really.

Eventually, he gave up trying to catch her eye again and faced the fire, finding it a much more interesting subject than the woman who had merely played with the handle of her cup.

"What was so important that you had to walk fifteen miles in the worst blizzard to hit this area this season?"

The flames flickered up and down, as if they were trying to jump out of the fireplace, but couldn't make it. Gilbert knew the feeling.

"Nothing—I was just walking."

"Just _walking_? Are you stupid? It must be negative twenty out there, and you just _decided_ it was a good time for a walk?"

"I didn't leave my house to just walk in one damn blizzard two hundred miles away!" he growled, the futile attempts of the fire to escape its prison pulling his mind into the vault of bad memories. The very memories he had been trying to get away from.

"…Then why did you, Gilbert?"

He shuddered at the sound of his name even though he wasn't that cold anymore. It had been weeks since he'd heard someone say it.

"I…" He wanted to explain. He couldn't understand what it was about this woman that made him talk, when not even the parishioner back in his hometown could, but he was feeling the almost uncontrollable urge to tell her everything. To tell her how he came home from a party to find him mangled and bloody. That he should've been there. That he shouldn't be alive. That he walked through blizzards until he couldn't anymore because he wanted to make himself suffer as much as possible before killing himself.

But even though his mind felt ready to tell her, his voice couldn't handle it. It hadn't been used regularly for days, and he didn't talk to himself as much as he had when he first set out. The looks from people as he had passed through towns had pissed him off too much. He decided that a mental monologue was better anyway, that way he could make fun of the people he passed without getting beat up.

Thankfully, she seemed to sense his dilemma.

"Here," she said as she handed him a warm cup of tea. He scowled a little, wishing it had been coffee, but he wasn't about to refuse it. A warm drink was a warm drink, and he was damn tired of ice cold water.

He nodded his thanks as he carefully blew on and then sipped the tea. It was chamomile, and for some reason that didn't surprise him.

They sat in silence again, though it was more relaxed this time. She had seen fit to leave her post at the table and was standing by the fire now, leaning against the concrete mantel. He just watched the way the light from the fire chased the shadows on her face as he drank his tea. It was obvious she was mulling over something, so he decided to rest his vocal chords some more and wait for her to speak.

"I can tell something bad happened to you." He almost dropped his cup as he quickly looked up at her. Smiling warmly, she met his red eyes with her green. "It's not like you're clandestine about it. You obviously have something you're running from, whether it is a memory or a person, or both."

"H-How?" If she had already seen that far without him saying anything, why bother pretending to mask his emotions?

Her smile became the slightest bit mischievous. "Your disregard for your well-being. The way you seem to not really see anything, but just stare dully at them. Not to mention the incredibly long distance you've covered, on foot, in the dead of winter."

She shrugged and faced the fire again. "It's not like it was hard to figure out."

He continued to stare at her, a bit mystified that she found him so easy to read. The last person who'd been able to do that had been…

A small hiccup sneaked its way out of his mouth, and he touched his cheeks in shock.

When had he started crying, goddamnit?

It amused him that she seemed as surprised at his tears as he was, but it wasn't enough to make it stop. She kneeled in front of him, taking the cup gently from his hands and setting it on the floor next to them before pulling him into a hug.

Her simple act of kindness caused the dams to let loose on her shoulder as she cradled his head, careful of the bump she gave him.

"Shhh, it's okay. You don't have to tell me whatever it is that happened. Just now I'll be here if you want to, and you can stay here as long as you want." Her voice was soothing, and once again she was reminding him of _that_ person. It was unnerving how she was saying almost the exact same things _he_ would say to him those few times he had broken down.

It was unnerving, but also comforting. It was like _he_ wasn't gone.

He fell asleep when his eyes ran out of tears. He had walked far that day and hadn't had much strength to begin with, and the crying had rid him of what little he had left.

She lowered him to the floor slowly, balling up some of her extra blankets and resting his head on top of it. Then she gathered some of her heavier blankets and laid them over his still frame. She didn't want him getting cold. If he had been out in the snow all day, then she figured a little extra heat wouldn't be unwelcome.

As she picked up his half-finished cup of tea, part of her wished she had the strength to lift him up onto her bed. However, that would be impossible. She had been about to go to bed when he barged in, but now she felt physically and mentally exhausted.

She puttered around for a minute or two more, a small smile gracing her lips at the sound of his light snoring, before she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers over herself.

"Goodnight Gilbert," she whispered, marveling at how long it'd been since she'd said goodnight to someone besides the occasional injured animal she treated.

It was probably her imagination, but she could've sworn that as she was dozing off, she heard him reply, "Goodnight Elizaveta, and thanks…"

"You're welcome," she muttered sleepily before falling asleep herself.

The wind continued to howl and buffer the walls of the cabin, but just barely over it one could hear the snoring of the man and woman as they slept in the odd companionship that strangers can sometimes share when they instinctively sense that the other might be someone you can't live without.

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A/N: Obviously the "he" Gilbert kept referring to is Ludwig, but in case I write a sequel, I'm not going to say anything about what I think happened to him.

I for some reason love these two together, but more in an AU sense than canon a lot of the time. Plus it just makes me happier than AusHun because that's so...obvious?

They're divorced anyway. XD

Well, that was definitely a downer compared with the previous one-shots, but I was just feeling sad!Prussia.

Review and go read my chaptered fic if you haven't already~ :D


	2. Chapter 2

Lookit! I finally wrote the second chapter! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own the series. Sadface.

WARNING: Mention of character death(s).

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When Gilbert woke up the next morning, his first thought was: why the hell did his head hurt so goddamn much? He was having trouble remembering where he was because all he knew was that he wasn't outside in the snow like he usually was. It was also strange because he wasn't cold like he usually was, which just strengthened the idea that he was inside some sort of building. He let out a soft groan when he rolled over and a spike of pain shot through his head.

"I see the burglar has awoken."

The moment he heard her voice, everything came rushing back to him: Walking through the blizzard. Entering the cabin and getting hit by the frying pan. Drinking the tea by the fire. Crying into Elizaveta's shoulder and then falling asleep…

He just grunted in response, rolling over further so that he wasn't putting presser on the bump on his head.

"Breakfast is ready, if you want some. Given how you looked last night and how quickly you passed out, I'll assume you haven't eaten well in a while."

Before Gilbert could even think up a suitable retort for her, his stomach growled longingly at the smell of the bacon she had fixed. She just chuckled slightly, and he heard her fixing him a plate as he slowly sat up, pushing the blankets off of him. He was about to get up when she appeared with the plate of food and a glass of milk.

"I think I can allow you to eat on the floor just this once, but I expect you to be able to sit at the table by dinner."

"Hmph, what makes you think I can't sit at the table now?" grumbled Gilbert, though he took the plate and began eating anyway.

"Oh, nothing really, just the fact that you walked fifteen miles in a blizzard and then went to sleep on the floor, making your joints incredibly stiff."

He wanted to refute that statement, but the fact that even just sitting up had been somewhat of an issue for him, he just grunted in reluctant agreement as he shoveled food into his mouth. It had actually been a while since he'd eaten properly. He should probably stop eating just so he didn't make himself sick; trouble was it tasted so good that he really didn't want to.

By the time he held his empty plate up, his stomach was beginning to feel queasy. Eating too fast mixed with the recent lack of food, was not settling well at all, so when Elizaveta asked if he wanted more, he frowned as he shook his head, arms wrapping gently around his stomach.

She didn't say anything as she took the plate and went back to the kitchen area, returning with a bucket that she wordlessly set down by him along with a glass of water before she went back to her table and began working on repairing his ratty coat that he'd been wearing.

His pride thanked her silence as he retched into the bucket, his stomach rebelling against its sudden full state. He felt bad that he was wasting perfectly good food by throwing it up, but he wasn't about to fight it, that would just make it worse. When he was fairly confident that he was done, he drank some of the water from the glass, relishing in the fact that it made his now raw throat feel better. It was the first time in a long time he was glad he had cold water to drink.

"Would you like to take a bath before trying to eat again?" asked Elizaveta from the table, having not moved or said a word while Gilbert had his episode.

"A bath would be good. I'm sure I smell awesome," said Gilbert offhandedly, a weak grin on his face as he met her green eyes with his red. She just rolled her eyes, a smile on her face regardless.

"I'll go start running hot water then."

He watched her set down his jacket and walk past him into the little room set off from the rest of the cabin. There wasn't an actual door, just a doorway. The cabin was obviously designed with only a single resident in mind, making privacy kind of hard to come by with two. However, at least it was set aside, which was better than being out in the open. He was still surprised she had some sort of indoor plumbing, then again, even the people back in his village who'd lived in thatched huts had had running water. It wasn't such a rare thing as one would think anymore.

Elizaveta didn't reappear for a couple minutes after the sound of water had started. For a few seconds, he had almost begun to think that she had decided to take a bath herself, but then she came back and stood in front of him.

"Do you need help getting up?"

Gilbert glared up at her, "Of course I can, you dumb broad."

"Fine," she replied, a knowing grin on her face as she walked away back to the bathroom to check on the water.

He made sure she was out of sight before he actually tried to move again. He first tried to get on his knees, which proved more difficult than he imagined. His knees didn't want to bend, and his back didn't particularly like the idea of him leaning over either. It took him almost the five minutes Elizaveta was gone just to get on his hands and knees. Again she just stood in front of him, this time not saying a word, just holding out her hands towards him.

Red eyes glared at them for a while before he sighed in annoyance and lifted his hands one at a time to grasp hers. He hated feeling weak; it just made him think of that night. However, he also knew he wasn't going to be able to make it to the bathroom without her help, and the more he thought about it, the more he really wanted that warm bath.

With great care she helped him kneel, and then slowly raised him to his feet. Wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders, she assisted him in walking to the bathroom.

It pained him to admit that even with his help, he was still exhausted by the time they got to the bathroom. Maybe because he'd been walking through the snow for so long, he'd thought that maybe he had gotten used to it and therefore had built up some sort of tolerance. Obviously he could be proven completely wrong by a single night of restful sleep by a fire. As he leaned against the wall, watching her test the water temperature, Gilbert came to a conclusion—a very embarrassing one.

"I'm going to need help getting my clothes off…" He didn't say it very loudly, almost seriously entertaining the thought of just taking a bath with his clothes on if she 'didn't hear him', but while that would be less painful, it wouldn't be quite as relaxing. He looked up when she hadn't replied, and found her staring at her with a mix of amusement and pity. "What?"

She gave a little shrug, a smile still on her face, "I'm just glad you actually asked for the help."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and grunted, "Such a woman response."

Elizaveta just laughed as she sat him down on the toilet so it would be easier for her to remove his shirt. At least he was able to stand up, regardless how shakily, and undo his pants, which fell down mostly by themselves, but he required some assistance in stepping out of them because they had chosen this time to get tangled around his feet. Both of them had the decency to blush as she tugged his boxers down slightly, looking away as she also helped him into the tub.

When he was settled into the wonderfully warm water, she began picking up his clothes to wash them while he bathed. She was almost out of the room when he muttered, "Thanks, Elizaveta."

Looking back at him, a smile in her eyes as well as on her face, she replied, "You're welcome, Gilbert."

She left, leaving him to carry on with relaxing into the water. Because he'd already had to ask for help twice, he would be damned if he was going to ask her for help in getting himself clean. He would give his body a few minutes of loosening up before attempting to actually clean himself. If he accomplished one thing that day, he hoped it was that.

-x-

By the time he had successfully cleaned himself of the several layers of grime that had managed to stick to him despite the long hours trudging through snow, Gilbert had managed to make enough of his stiff muscles relax so that he was able to get out of the tub by himself and put on the clothes that Elizaveta had left for him on the sink. He wasn't too fond of the frilly collar on the shirt, but the clean cloth felt good against his equally clean skin so he wasn't about to complain about the style. Really, he was more curious about why she had men's clothing just lying about, but after his stomach grumbled tentatively at him, he figured trying to eat something should come first.

Cautiously he walked out of the bathroom, his arms held out to help balance himself. When Elizaveta saw him coming out, she made to come over and help him, but he warned her off by making a disapproving noise. He was determined he was going to do this alone, and it was with a very smug face that he plopped heavily down into a chair at the table.

"Well, now that you're capable of motion again, I suppose you want to try and eat something?" Her body language was saying that she was a little miffed, but her tone was more amused at his antics than anything.

His stomach let out a more persistent grumble and smirked up at her, "Does that answer your question?"

Elizaveta merely laughed at him as she got him a bowl of the soup she had made while he was in the bathroom. When it got placed in front of him, it looked more like some sort of gruel than soup, but hey, he was still more likely to be able to keep it down than the bacon and eggs. He paced himself better this time, still eating faster than he normally would have, but with enough restraint that his stomach accepted the offering.

They remained silent as he ate, Elizaveta puttering around, checking on his clothes that were soaking in the sink, wiping down the counters even though they were clean for the most part, and she was getting ready to move his clothes to the drying rack by the fire when he finally spoke up.

"Where did you get the clean clothes for me?"

Her movements paused for a moment, and Gilbert immediately regretted asking. She seemed to kind of shake herself and continued on with her task at hand, saying softly, "Well, I've had some just lying around for a while now, mainly just because I haven't had the heart to get rid of them yet…"

He wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to as he watched her hang his clothes up in front of the fire. Asking would mean he cared, and given his current state, Gilbert wasn't sure if he could afford to care. Then again, she had allowed herself to care about a stranger after he'd just walked into her house.

"…who was he?" inquired Gilbert cautiously, not sure if he should have his eyes on her, or on his food.

It was a little while before she responded, and he had almost began to think that she was just going to ignore him.

"He was my husband." Her voice was more vulnerable than she had ever allowed it to be, and even though she was still fixated on drying his clothes, her hands were shaking with the emotions that were coursing through her.

"What was his name?"

"…Roderich."

"Well, Roderich had some awesome clothes."

Smiling over at him she knew that he was actually annoyed by the shirt; she'd seen it the moment he'd staggered out of the bathroom, glaring down at it disdainfully. However, she appreciated the gesture.

"Heh, he did have a sense of style all his own," she commented as she shifted her green eyes back to the fire and the clothes before it, like it hurt too much to see another man wear her husband's clothes.

The silence stretched over them for a while, and Gilbert didn't really want to continue the conversation they were having because deep down he sensed that it would lead to him talking about his own personal pain—the pain that had driven him to walk for weeks in the dead of winter.

The albino man was about to try and switch topics when Elizaveta sighed and stood up straight, grinning over at him as she said, "The fire is getting low, so I'm going to go chop some more wood. I would let you do it as some form of payment, but I'm too afraid you'll hurt yourself." He wanted to retort, defend his pride as a man, but she cut him off as she was putting on her coat. "Now, now, don't worry. You can chop the wood in a couple days when your strength is back."

Gilbert just watched in barely hidden awe of her emotional strength as she walked out the cabin door, axe casually resting on her shoulder.

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A/N: I'm sorry it only took me forever to get this out! I had a hard time figuring out where I wanted it to start. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do a timeskip or start right where I left off. Obviously I went with the latter.

We now get a little more info about Elizaveta and why she's alone, and whoa they're more alike than they think! That wasn't like, on purpose or anything. Haha yes I do know where I'm going with this story, so hopefully I will update this about as often as I do my other chaptered fic. :)

Reviews will be much loved~ :D


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